Above The Sky

Chapter 1997 - 21: The Short-lived Brilliance of Life

What does it mean to truly be alive?

The great fire.

An immense wildfire ignited, turning the Busto Plains into a sea of blazing fire, its scarlet radiance shining brightly, casting a rosy hue upon the sky.

A child stood in the center of the plains, with flames as his toys and blazing fire as his servant. He set ablaze the endless ’Parasitic Demon Plants’ that used to entangle Busto Plains, incinerating all the Bug-Rodent Demon Beasts that resided within to ashes.

Confused, he was worshiped as a God by the farmers of the Busto Plains. The burning royal blood foretold the emergence of a future powerful figure, while the child’s parents gazed upon him with complex and expectant eyes.

Everyone held hopes for the future, except the child, who felt confused and uneasy.

Those lush shrubs, those vibrant lives, those intricate and exquisite caves and nests, those ingenious symbiotic systems, all were destroyed by a single flame. Clearly, the life on this plain was so brilliant, so green, yet it was turned into Nihility by his hand.

Indeed. It was necessary. People needed arable land, needed crops, needed to live, and thus needed to eliminate other forms of life.

The farmers cheered and worshiped as the flames burned away the weeds, enriching the soil, assuring a bountiful harvest next year. Father was also excited, for his abilities, their lineage had a chance to return to royal blood.

Life was destroyed, the flames so brilliant, perhaps the greatest meaning of life was the radiance at the moment of destruction.

"Father, so much life, why must it be burned?"

"Because these are weeds and vermin. If we want to survive, we must kill them."

"What is our difference? If others wanted to survive, could they also kill us?"

"Well... because we have thoughts. We are thinking humans?"

This question was difficult for even the child’s father to answer. Lacking much education, though possessing royal blood, it had thinned over several generations. He valued this child born with Bloodline Reversion greatly and thus pondered seriously: "If I must say, we are somewhat more important compared to these weeds and rats."

"As for others wanting to kill us, we would kill them too."

It’s all the same.

In the center of the pitch-black plains, amidst the endless ashes, the child raised his head to the sky. The sun shone on everything, unchanged by the actions of any creature on the ground, unflickering at any worship or cheer from humans.

To it, everything happening on earth was certainly the same.

Whoever survives or whoever perishes, the sun will not shine any brighter, nor will it grow any dimmer.

"Boring."

He murmured to himself.

Dastiel Abassalom was born in a basin plain surrounded by mountains. Since young, he lived with his father, the mountain and forest administrator. As a marginal royal blood, his father didn’t even have the opportunity to gain more power through experiments and could only manage farmers and hunters in this remote mountainous region, reigning over the beasts of the mountain.

From a young age, Dastiel encountered numerous kinds of life, growing up amidst the vibrant nature.

But he couldn’t feel the ’reality of living’.

Monkeys in the woods, foraging, wandering all day. The monkey king leading the tribe, avoiding strong enemies, distributing resources, then leaving descendants, day after day, like a machine.

There are even those monkeys driven by the king all their lives, unable to leave descendants, laboring for the tribe till death... Every day they scour for food, eat, sleep, the cycle repeating, time fleeting, finally turning to corpses and bones, leaving no trace on earth.

Is this being alive?

Leaving the jungle, what about the farmers on the plains? Those old farmers, covered in calluses, who farmed all their lives, who reaped all their lives, who tilled the earth their whole lives, cultivating more land. They left descendants, who also became farmers, day after day, year after year, until the entire Busto Plains became the farmland of Fiery Flame Land, yet the land owned as farmers remained the same, the harvest and taxes unchanged.

Yes, a mutated weed or a reverted rodent plague could infest the Busto Plains back to its original state overnight—decades of farmers’ cultivation returned to its original state in one night.

Then it was turned to ashes by his single blaze.

Repeated back and forth, nothing has changed.

So, the monkeys in the jungle, the humans on the plains, what is the difference?

Human thought, human wisdom, the reality of human existence... where is it truly found?

Due to Dastiel’s remarkable talent, their lineage was summoned back to Flame Abyss Territory. Father became a warrior of the Fiery Flame Land, serving the twelfth son of this generation’s King of Inferno Abyss and his great-grandfather.

Father was overjoyed, as it was his honor and an excellent opportunity—for Dastiel’s growth required resources that could not be obtained in the rural Busto Plains but only acquired by becoming a warrior of Fiery Flame Land through the battle between life and death. He never doubted his child’s potential, believing that once he grew, his blaze would command worldwide attention.

The young child watched as warriors left the court, watching as warriors left the court, including his father, uncles, and elder brothers. These heirs of the king’s blood, seemingly more noble than farmers and hunters, were no different from the driven monkey troops or the departing worker bees. To attain more food, power, and benefits, they had to earn merits.